Spring Snow

Spring Snow, like an unwanted guest,
showing up uninvited,
assuming hospitality, just being itself, while
cars curse and swerve.
Spring Snow, like a bill past due
directed at you,
that you assumed was paid in full,
yet wanting more and MORE.
You slow through the snow squalls and
worrisome white outs, behind the wobbly line of cars,
to the parking lot, yes, a bit late,
to the jumble of kids, waiting for you,
to "why are you late?" and trunk and doors opening
for the only ones totally unaware of the trouble,
completely oblivious to the air's annoyance,
the only ones that really matter on a day like today:
Weekend teenage skiiers,
in love and in step
with the sky's final burst
of spring white.